


Faster Stronger Better

by BlazingStarInInkyBlackness



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, But a lot of angst beforehand, Depression, Eating Disorders, Hallucinations, Sad, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, hopefully some fluff later on, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6089110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness/pseuds/BlazingStarInInkyBlackness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Stiles didn't eat he lasted five hours and forty three minutes before giving up and eating a cookie. That was the night his mom died. His life only went downhill from there. When the lines between reality and dreams mixed Stiles came out all the worse for it. The Nogitsune left him unsure of himself, unsure of the world but he remembered some things, the habits that had started to grow. So who cares when he starts fainting? Who cares when he can't sleep for the nightmares? Who cares that there's more scar tissue on his body than skin? Who cares if he tries to kill himself? The answer is, to his surprise, everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter one

It started as a challenge- how long could he go without eating? It ended in a hospital bed.  There was stuff in between, good stuff, bad stuff and a lot of stuff that was neither good nor bad, just stuff.

Stiles was bored one day while his mother was in hospital. No one would tell him why but he’d figured most of it out. She was gonna die. He didn’t really know what that meant either. He’d finished the school work he had been set and, as he had yet to discover the internet, he was bored. His father was busy working a double shift and the babysitter hadn’t turned up yet. As he sat there his mind wandered back to the school day he’d just been forced to sit through, something dumb about healthy living, the food pyramid and what happened of you didn’t get enough. Stiles, curious even at that age, had frowned, a thought crossing his mind. How long can I survive without food? When he had voiced the thought to the teacher she’d just glared at him and said that every meal was important.

As he sat there, idly swinging his legs he came to a decision; he would try it. It would be a test, like the ones his mom had to go through. She had to go through a lot, ones that made sure she was healthy. Stiles shivered at the thought. This was a test he’d pass.

So that day he had tried it, when his babysitter finally arrived he said he’d already eaten and when his dad came back, exhausted, Stiles had said he’d eaten tea with the sitter. All in all it lasted about five hours and then he went to get himself a sandwich which evolved into three and a number of cookies (let’s not talk semantics about the exact number. He was hungry after all). So there the question was answered; he could survive five hours and forty three minutes without eating. He’d measured it on his watch so he knew the exact time. He settled down in bed that night comfortable with the new knowledge he’d gained and the knowledge that the next day he’d be able to tell his mom what he’d done, how she would praise him for timing it so well, being able to calculate it. She was always so proud of him. Stiles fell asleep with a gentle smile on his face, thinking of just what he’d tell his mom in the morning.

He was awoken in the middle of the night by his dad whispering that there had been a car crash and he had to go. Stiles was dropped off at the hospital with a book under the care of the nurses who knew both of them by now. Stiles had whined as he was dragged from bed and his dad had crouched in front of him, promising that this would be the last time. As it turned out, he was right.

Stiles never did get to tell his mom what he’d done.

That night when they were both home Stiles ran straight upstairs. His father didn’t try to follow. Instead he sat at the table with the wine he had for his wedding anniversary. By the morning it was gone and the bottle smashed. Stiles rushed into his parent’s bedroom and buried his face in the clothes. He knew it was pointless. Her smell had gone, now the remains of it lay in the hospital room. In under an hour that would go too, it would all be washed away by disinfectant and be replaced with someone else’s smell. Stiles felt sick at the thought. It was almost as if something was stuck at the back of his throat, as if it had swelled up. He ran to the toilet just like he was meant to when he was ill. That thought brought back more memories, his mom bending over him and whispering that he was alright, that it would be gone by tomorrow. Even if it wasn’t she was still there the next day and that made up for the illness. Stiles bent over the toilet and felt bile leap from his throat. When it was done he felt different, lighter in some way. And somehow Stiles could suddenly sense her in the room.

“Mom?” he croaked out but just as he opened his mouth the presence vanished. He crawled into his bed fully clothed and cried for what seemed like hours. In reality it was only one. Within a week his father and he had moved to the opposite side of Beacon hills. It made sense; it was closer to the school and to the police station. No one mentioned how it was further from the hospital or how it was closer to the graveyard. A week after his mother’s death Stiles was back in school and now going solely by Stiles. His real name was never uttered, it had been his mother’s name for him and he thought it was right that something died along with her.

 

Growing up, Stiles knew that he was different, he was gangly and he found so many things fascinating while others just glanced in confusion over his head. He was hyperactive and couldn’t pay attention. Teachers wrote this off as acting up after his mother’s death. After all, not many elementary age kids saw their mother’s corpse, even less had seen their last breaths. But everyone knew Stiles had. They knew he’d been there but they didn't mention it. How do you even try to talk about something like that?

Eventually he was diagnosed at ADHD which was just another mark that he was different. The one thing that made it better was Scott McCall. They fitted together weirdly. Stiles had a fairly faulty moral compass, not hesitating to lie to get what he wanted or stealing things from his father. But Scott’s compass worked overtime for both of them, making Stiles feel guilty and occasionally even returning what he’d taken. Stiles couldn’t think in a straight line, too many things to distract him, and Scott couldn’t run in a straight line. (Or run at all if his asthma was acting up). Scott had the cute, puppy demeanour and Stiles had the brains to back it up. Scott was a dreamer and Stiles was the realist who would get it done. Scott didn’t have a father and Stiles didn’t have a mother. They fitted together like scars around an open, bloodied wound.

One day when they were lying on their back in a field, trying to determine if Scott was dying or just having an asthma attack, Stiles brought up a question, asking Scott how long this could last, how long they could be friends. Between wheezes Scott said forever, they were best friends and that didn’t go away or change.

While they traipsed back to Scott’s house Stiles couldn’t stop thinking, he never could. He always wished he could, just shut down his brain for a few precious hours so he could relax. But his mind kept on plaguing him with what Scott had said. Friends didn’t leave each other, didn’t abandon each other. They’d be together forever.

Stiles’ mind couldn’t stop thinking about the gold bands that lay on his father’s dresser. He thought about Scott’s mother and just where his father was. Even people who loved each other left sometimes. Scott would be no different.

When Stiles got home it was to see his father slumped over papers, snoring. Beneath his hand lay shattered glass, where a bottle had slipped from his finger. Stiles sighed and slowly cleared it up. He then dragged his dad over to the couch and gently laid a blanket over him. He then sat beside his father, munching a chocolate sandwich, feeling empty. He left half of it on the counter and slunk up to his room trying to ignore the lump at the back of his throat. He wasn’t a kid anymore, he shouldn’t cry. But he couldn’t quite stop himself.

 

After that night his dad cleared up his act, putting the alcohol away after a particularly memorable night. After that night rule suddenly became a lot more flexible and Stiles figured that the black eye was almost worth it. Not that he’d ever want a repeat of it. But he knew he shouldn’t have brought up his mom at a time like that. Stiles isn’t even sure if his dad remembers the night but Stiles remembers every detail of it, the rage of his father and the pain. The next day he looked up self defence mechanisms but before he could actually get any of it done he got distracted with the history. As it never repeated itself he doesn’t bother learning more.

At school he was regarded as a bit of a freak. He was geeky and a lot more clever than most of the people there. At some point Scott had a series of asthma attacks and wasn’t allowed back into school for two weeks. After eating alone for two weeks Stiles decided to develop a better sense of humour. When he acted out people laughed and so he did it more and more. And if he was kind of leaving Scott behind him who cared? Nothing lasts for ever, best friends were for five year olds. Stiles developed a sense of humour that targeted mostly him, that was the best thing to do if you’re the class clown. No one likes to be laughed at but everyone likes to laugh at someone. Really everything started going downhill when everyone else stopped laughing, when they rolled their eyes or remained silent instead. That left Stiles wondering, was it a joke? Or maybe, he was the joke, the fool, the freak.

 

The night before high school started Stiles decided that he couldn’t sleep. Sleep had never been easy but ever since his mother had died it had become almost impossible some nights. So he paid a call to Scott, he hadn’t counted on the baseball bat though. As they ran through the woods Stiles felt really good. Really super good actually. This was their year, this was their new start. They didn’t need to sit in the bleachers or hide behind anyone else. But then Stiles came face to face with his dad and was sent back home. He rolled his eyes and sighed but still went. This was his year and having to suspend his curiosity for one night wasn’t the end of the world.

Then Scott was bitten. Everything Stiles knew was gone. He was surrounded by muscle and he felt everything spiral out of control. He tried to hold on, researching for hours at a time, trying desperately to be worthwhile. But he couldn’t be. Everyone was faster, stronger and better. He was falling behind. Scott McCall, with asthma so bad he had to miss weeks of school, could run further than Stiles could. Lydia, who had never shown any interest in Stiles, was now making out with Scott in a closet. One day, after being shouted at by Derek and shoved against a wall, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused.

He was tall, gangly. His skin was too pale and his freckles were too prominent. As he looked he remembered his mother, how she’d poke each freckle individually to make him laugh. As he stood there he couldn’t even think about doing that. He looked down at his body again and found it lacking once more.

There wasn’t an excessive amount of fat but there was still more than Scott had. He wasn’t anywhere near as muscled as Scott. He couldn’t run as far as Scott. The differences piled up minute after minute until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. The next day he skipped breakfast, he’d skipped it plenty of times whenever he was running late anyway, didn’t make much difference. That day he pocketed the money he was given for lunch. He sat in the library saying he had an assignment. It became a schedule and slowly, but surely, Stiles began to regain control. He couldn’t stop whatever was happening in the world but he could control this, just a bit. He could just nudge himself towards a healthier weight. The numbers on the scales he’d bought on day one dropped and he felt satisfaction in what he’d done. He knew that technically it wasn’t a very good idea but he persevered. He’d know when he needed to stop. After all, it was just a diet.

 

Sometimes though it was too much. Maybe Scott was munching through a bag of curly fries or Melissa McCall had just baked cookies. At these times Stiles felt the anxiety swell up in him, he wanted food but he shouldn’t he shouldn’t he shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t shouldn’t. This repeated in his head while his body moved of its own accord. His hands grabbed a handful of the fries while his mouth smirked at the look on Scott’s face. His hands moved to take a cookie while he felt sick inside. When Allison and Scott got serious it hurt all the more, no matter how much progress Stiles had made (none of his trousers fitted anymore) Scott was better. When Peter offered Stiles the bite his mind leapt at the opportunity, he’d be perfect finally. But something stopped him. The same presence was there, his mother softly whispering his name over a crib. Stiles refused it, feeling ill. He couldn’t let himself do that. He had to be human for her. When he got home he paused outside his father’s door and looked in, to where the two rings still lay. He smiled gently, he was doing the right thing.

After that Stiles began to eat more. Never breakfast but normally lunch. Always dinner and occasionally a snack here and there. He trained as well, running laps with Scott and attempting to shoot with Allison. After he had shot himself in the foot twice she stopped the sessions. During the break he gained a different control. He made meals and he controlled what he ate and really isn’t that better? Sure, his first attempts resemble Peter Hale after Derek was done with him (he doesn’t try that recipe again ever) but eventually the meals are alright.  His dad’s calmed down a lot and Stiles revels in the feeling that he is finally in control again. Of course the moment he gets back to school it crashes down around his ears.

 

Derek Hale is recruiting. With every new wolf made Stiles feels another pang. He could be like that. Isaac, Boyd, Erica, they’re perfect. With everything going on Stiles slowly reverted back to his old ways. Starving is very in at the moment anyway, he thought wryly. He watched as everything crumbles. Everything began to blur. Who were they fighting now? Kanimas, Jackson, Derek? Who cares? Well, Scott of course. But he cared about everything. Except Stiles apparently, because even though Stiles is back to eating one meal a day Scott doesn’t care. Stiles vents his fury on Jackson in that small truck until he can’t and then he’s yelled at once more by his dad. The next day Stiles wakes up, with no idea of when he’d fallen asleep or why he was lying half in and half out of the kitchen. He tried to not think about it.

 

When Allison is gone Stiles is pleased, whilst Scott is moping they can actually spend time together for once. Scott begins to notice stuff then, when his girlfriend is off in France, unable to distract him. So Stiles relaxes a little bit again, back up to two meals a day whenever Scott is around. When Allison is back school becomes worse and worse until Stiles begins skipping days. He’s never been able to concentrate and ever since the werewolfy stuff appeared he just couldn’t keep perfect attendance. Very soon Stiles has to drag himself out of bed. He doesn’t grab a snack or lunch but just heads out the door. He can keep up a good front though. That is, until his father is kidnapped by the Darach.

Every muscle in his body screams at him. His mind is firing off faster than it has before. He can’t concentrate and he can’t stay still but he doesn’t have the energy to get up. He can’t watch another one of his parents die. He can’t watch another body being dragged into the morgue. Worse, this time he’d have to identify the body. He’d be alone this time. Stiles barely made it into a different room before his body gave out on him, sending wave after wave of panic roaring through him. When he’d regained himself just a bit he left the room and was confronted with the sympathetic gaze of Scott. Stiles just shook his head and Scott said nothing more.

It’s almost a relief when he sacrifices himself. At least he’s doing something. At least he’s not just sat there being useless, fat, terribly _human_ Stiles. It’s the aftermath that’s the worst. One moment he’s in terrible searing pain the next completely numb. His appetite is the same, one moment he’s eating everything he can get his hands on and the next the thought of food revolts him. He has coping strategies though. When he’s in agony he stays still and sleeps, or tries to at least. When he’s numb he takes out his scissors until he sees red.

One thing that’s constant is the cold. Before he was chilly but now all he can feel is the ice around him, enveloping him. Inside and out he is freezing. After that he doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not. He talks to his mother and father. He thinks one of them is dead but he doesn’t remember which one. Peter yells at him and throws fire and Stiles accepts it but it doesn’t warm him. Sometimes he throws the fire and sometimes it’s a half human half lizard creature. Some days he eats so much he explodes, literally. Other times he counts his fingers carefully before stuffing them down his throat. By the time he’s done he can’t remember how many fingers he had.

 

When the creature is out of him, when the Nogitsune has fled, Stiles doesn’t feel better. If anything he feels worse. Because suddenly he can’t blame anything on a dream. He runs to the toilet after every meal and throws up. Sometimes he makes it happen but often it just happens. He doesn’t feel his mother’s presence anymore. He figures it’s because she doesn’t want him. Why would she? Everyone else is fasterstrongerbetter. Everyone else is worth saving. Surely, the only reason he came back to life was for him to give it up? But before he could Allison was dead. Scott was wrecked. Isaac was barely holding it together.

But there are an awful lot of traits a True Alpha has and it seems that giving up is not one of those. Or maybe that’s just Scott. But either way, Scott refuses to let Stiles die. All Stiles can think is that it’s the least he deserves. When the fox is finally killed Stiles feels something falling away from him. He later realises what it was; the feeling his mother was close by. The idea that a monster made him feel that is enough to send him rushing to throw up the contents of his empty stomach.

 

After that Scott recluses himself. Isaac and Chris Argent travel halfway across the world and Derek seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Everyone is mourning a loss. Allison and Aiden are both cold in the ground. Stiles sometimes wonders if they can talk to his mother. He knows it’s silly, he hasn’t believed in an afterlife since his mom died. But he starts to think about it more and more now. He thinks of the afterlife, about heaven and hell and purgatory and death. Because none of those could happen without death. He’s seen how many people can die in violent ‘accidents’. He wonders when he’ll join them. He keeps on fainting and it won’t stop. He doesn’t eat. (He can’t sleep) He doesn’t sleep. (He can’t sleep) Instead he cuts (he can do that, he can destroy himself. God knows he’s had enough practice.) He rips himself apart until he can’t see his skin for the blood. He still keeps it a secret though. Who could he tell? Scott, for all of his compassion, snapped and shouted sometimes when Stiles came up. He knew it was because of the Nogitsune but it hurt. Lydia, for all of her intelligence, didn’t notice anything. Stiles’ father was too busy rebuilding the police station after the Oni attack to talk to his son about that. Mrs McCall was too busy with Mr McCall. All in all there was no one left for Stiles until it was almost too late.

 

He didn’t want to die by starving himself. He almost did though. Every time he stood up his vision was filled with black spots. He fainted too much. He slept for at least twelve hours each day. He was never warm and each rib could be seen in stark detail against his snow white flesh. There wasn’t any fat left on his frame but there wasn’t any muscle either. Just the bones. That’s all that was left of his mum though, and Allison and Boyd, Erica, Aiden. He wasn’t far off joining them. But one day he decided that enough was enough. He was through being ignored. He was through with every one being fasterstrongerbetter than him. Everyone was equal in death at least.

Those were the thoughts in his head when he was standing at the top of the school. There wasn’t anywhere else to go. The hospital was tall but constantly manned on the other hand the school had several hours until anyone would come by. So Stiles waited. His phone was clenched in his hand. He wanted it to ring, for someone to care enough to call him down but it stayed silent.

Anyway, no one cared about him so why would they look? His dad was working the night shift and wouldn’t get home until it was all over for Stiles. No one else cared. If they did he wouldn’t be sitting there because he couldn’t even find the energy to stand up. His top wouldn’t catch at every micro movement. He watched as the last car pulled away. There was no point doing this when someone else could see.

He gently placed his phone on the side. In three hours it would send a message to the hospital. Then some faceless, nameless stranger would collect his body. By then the chances of him surviving were almost nothing, he’d done as much research into it as he could. Even if he survived the drop, his body was worn down. It had broken so long ago, just as his mind had been.

At that thought he slowly stood, swaying slightly in the breeze. He leaned forwards.

For a moment it was glorious. He felt as if he was flying, the wind buffeting him ever so slightly.

It felt glorious.

An inhuman scream ripped through the air.

The air rushed against his face.

His mother was beside him.

The body hit the floor.

Darkness.

Nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets to the hospital. Unfortunately this is just the start of his problems.

There should have been a scream. There should have been a scream. There should have been- Scott couldn’t understand it.

“STILES!” Scott roared but the wind grasped his words and tore them apart, leaving only a primal shout of fear. Immediately he was joined in his scream by Lydia’s overwhelming screech. Lydia, who had felt something off, Lydia, the Banshee, Lydia, the one who knows when someone’s going to die.

But a Banshee and an Alpha, even a True Alpha, hold nothing against gravity. Stiles crashed to the ground, rag doll style, and just lay there. Scott raced forwards, not noticing he’d wolfed out until he was turning Stiles with claws rather than hands. As Scott turned his friend over he paused, shocked. He was cold under Scott’s hands (paws) and now that Scott saw, now that he really looked at his friend he could see something he’d never seen before. He looked like hell. His cheekbones were like tombstones in the graveyard of his face. His normally pale face was grey and blood surrounded him, a small pool of his own blood and it had never seemed more crimson than it did now.

“Scott what did you do?” Lydia screeched. He looked up at her in confusion and she shoved him aside. “You’re half wolf!” Scott looked down at his claws and realised she was right. He slowly slid them in and kept on staring at his hands for a moment, the scarlet blood stained into them. “Did you move him?” Scott didn’t even realise Lydia was talking to him until she hit his shoulder none too gently. He looked up in confusion. “Did you move him?” Scott shook his head dumbly, not thinking as he did, and she nodded. “I’ve called the ambulance, it’ll be here soon.”

Scott looked away from Stiles for a second, feeling sick. He took a deep breath and slowly shifted back to human. He took hold of Stiles’ arm carefully, avoiding moving his body. Scott’s veins bulged, black for a second as he tried to help his best friend. But for every ounce of pain Scott took from Stiles there was still so much more. Scott felt tears streaming down his face as he realised how much agony Stiles was actually in.

“How did it happen?” Scott whispered. Lydia looked away, she could tell when someone was going to die but she couldn’t tell Scott why. “What was he doing up there?”

“It’s Stiles, Scott. It could be anything.” Please, oh god, let it not be what I think it is, Lydia thought. Please, for the love of anything. Don’t let that have happened. But while Lydia’s brain ran in overdrive Scott’s was still struggling to keep up. “My mom’s on call at the moment. She’ll be able to help.” Scott muttered. They remained there, hunched over the almost broken body of their friend.

 

“Did you see it?” Kira asked later, later when the screams and shouts had died down, later when Scott had finally scrubbed the blood off his hands, later, when Stiles was finally in the hospital. Not later enough to see him come out of theatre though, that would take more time. But she was sat there, waiting alongside Scott.

“Yeah, he just- just fell off. I don’t-” Scott broke off, shaking his head. “What the hell was he even doing up there?” He asked incredulously, Stiles was odd but he was careful. Most of the time anyway. Well, occasionally. Well-

The point is, that Stiles didn’t fall off building he climbed up. He made the precautions to keep him safe. He told people where he was going, he was smart enough to make sure he would always be alright. But now he wasn’t.

Doctors didn’t talk to the teenagers who find their friends like that. They talk to the parents first but they also talk to each other. Unfortunately werewolves have freakishly good ears.

“Jesus, it’s the sheriff’s kid.”

“Always the ones you don’t expect eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, it’s a joke! Look at the kid! How the hell did no-one notice this?”

“Notice-”

“God, you’re never going to make consultant, are you? Look, those scars aren’t made by anyone but himself. It wasn’t as if he just fell off the building. He _must_ have jumped. No-one’s that dumb.”

Scott sat bolt upright at that and Kira’s face immediately dropped into confusion. Scott gaped as he heard that, they must have been wrong. No way would Stiles do that. No way. Stiles wouldn’t- he- he wouldn’t-

“Scott!”

Scott’s head snapped up as he heard Lydia’s voice. She was staring at him in worry and he suddenly realised he had half shifted, claws coming out and eyes flashing red. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, pulling himself back with his anchor. It didn’t work. He was furious and terrified, Stiles had tried to kill himself.

“Oh my God.” Lydia whispered and Scott looked up in confusion until he realised he must have said it out loud. Next to him Kira was sitting there in confusion as she looked between the two people. Lydia had tears in her eyes and she sat down on the floor, hands still clutching Scott’s. “Are you- are you sure?” Scott nodded shakily.

“That’s what they’re saying.” He inclined his head to the door and Lydia followed his line of sight.

“How did we not notice it?” Lydia’s voice was quiet, small and defeated. She released Scott’s hand to wipe a tear away from her face. “How long-”

“Did you see it?” Scott asked quietly. “Did any of us?” Kira shook her head, obviously confused but still answering. Lydia paused before nodding.

“A bit. He’s so quiet now. Not the hyperactive idiot you know? He was-” Lydia trailed off. “He wasn’t- wasn’t Stiles.” The three of them sat in silence for a long moment. Scott realised he’d shifted back at some point. Obviously his anchor still worked even if it was lying in a hospital bed half dead.

 

An hour later Melissa walked into the room. Instantly all three heads snapped up to her. Scott rose and then paused with no idea what to say. Melissa smiled but her lip was trembling and her eyes were wet with tears.

“Mom is he- is he alright?”

“Uh,” Melissa paused, shaking her head slightly. “He’s hurt. He- the-” Scott winced as he saw a tear dribble down her cheek. “His injuries are severe and they haven’t finished the surgery yet but it’s looking uh, it’s looking like he’ll be okay. He managed to break two of his ribs and his left arm. They should recover but it’ll take a while. He- some of his internal organs were messed up but they still look like they’ll recover. He has- he-” Melisa broke off again and wiped her cheek at the tears. Scott felt tears swell up in his own eyes at the thought of his best friend lying in a hospital bed, so badly hurt.

He didn’t know what had done this but he swore in that moment that he’d hunt it down and kill it. His friend could have died. No matter how dangerous this creature was he’d track them down and kill him. Not once did his mind drift to another option, not once did he think that the monster could be inside Stiles’ head.

“He’s dehydrated and he’s- it looks like he hasn’t been eating properly for a long time. There are cuts-” Melisa broke off again and Scott stepped forwards to embrace her. She leaned into the gesture. “He hurt himself. He’s got- got cuts all along his arms. He cut himself Scott. He-”

“It’s okay Mom. I’m not going to let this thing, whatever it is, get away with this. I promise.” Melissa pulled back with hope obvious in her face.

“You think this is a- a werewolf thing?”

“Yes.” Scott said without even a trace of doubt in his voice of mind. “Stiles wouldn’t do this.” The thought of Stiles running a razor along his skin didn’t fit in with Scott’s idea of his friend. Stiles often forgot to eat or sleep but he’d never do it on purpose.

“Thank God.” Melissa breathed out. “He’s still in surgery but it shouldn’t be too much longer. The hospital think this was a suicide attempt, they’re keeping him in for a week until they make sure he’s not going to hurt himself again.”

“Then we have a week.” Scott turned back to Kira and Lydia as he said this. “We’ve got a week to figure out what’s hurting him and track it down.” The two girls nodded and Scott felt himself relax just a bit more. He could do this. Stiles could get through this.

“Okay, my shift finishes in half an hour. I’m going to grab some clothes for us and then come straight back here.”

“You’re not going to make us leave?” Melissa fixed her son with a look which was half condescending, half bemused.

“I don’t think there’s a single thing I could do to make you leave him right now.” That got a smile out of Scott, a tiny one but a smile none the less. An hour later Melissa returned with a pack of clothes for each of them. Lydia, Kira and Scott had decided to not tell Malia or Derek just yet for the simple reason that they didn’t need to know. But he held onto his phone turning it over and over in his hand. The message had come in from Stiles and Scott was still so confused over the whole thing. What kind of creature would make Stiles starve himself? Why would he be covered in those little scars? What would try to _kill_ Stiles? It didn’t make sense. At about three in the morning he fell into a dreamless sleep, still plagued by those questions.

When he awoke it was to Lydia shaking him awake

“The sheriff is in with him. They finished the surgery but we’re not allowed in yet” Scott nodded and put his head in his hands ready for another long wait.

“When are we allowed in?” Lydia just shrugged. Outside the sun began to rise. The first tendrils of light crept along the floor, moving as time crawled on. Lydia began to get impatient and opened up her phone before putting it back down almost immediately. There was no one she wanted to talk to except Stiles. Scott was slowly sheathing and unsheathing his claws as he worried over his best friend. When noon arrived they were finally allowed to go into Stiles’ room. Just before they did Melissa took them both to one side.

“He’s being kept in a medically induced coma so his body can have a better chance of healing. He’s being fed intravenously until he can wake up. I don’t know but if there is something,” here she gestured at her son. “Supernatural that can help him then you need to find it.” Scott nodded and then took up his vigil beside his best friend.

 

Two days later Stiles came out of the coma. Scott had just dragged Sheriff Stilinski home and so when Stiles awoke it was to Lydia and Lydia alone.

Lydia heard a rustle of sheets and she opened her eyes slowly. It was sometime in the early morning and she had just been fast asleep. She found herself draped across two chairs beside Stiles’ bed. She glanced to the bed in question and saw two brown eyes staring back.

“Stiles! You-” she broke off as the door opened to the night nurse. He took one look at Stiles and gently pushed him back onto the pillows from which he was trying to rise.

“Stiles, can you hear me?” Stiles nodded slowly as if he wasn’t quite sure. “You’re in Beacon Hills hospital recovering, okay? You can’t leave the bed.” Stiles nodded again, his eyes were more focused when he did so. “Can you talk?”

“Yeah.” Stiles’ voice was quiet and hoarse but it was there none the less

“Okay, we’re going to need to keep you for a while now. Do you want your friend here to stay with you?” Stiles nodded again and the nurse turned to Lydia “He’s still under some of the effects so he might not be very coherent. He has to remain calm. If you aggravate him then you’ll be back in the waiting room faster than you can say hospital. Got it?” Lydia nodded and the nurse began to bustle around Stiles, performing tests. Very soon the two of them were left alone.

“Your hair’s r’lly pr’ty you kn’w Lyd’a” Stiles slurred out “Re’lly re’lly prty. ‘S like sun ‘nd n’ce st’ff. Y’r pr’ty.” And just like that Lydia’s anger vanished. How could she remain angry when Stiles was this helpless?

“Lie back down Stiles. Scott will be here soon”

“Sc’tts n’ce too. N’t pr’ty tho’. N’t l’k’ y’u. Y’r pr’ty. I h’d a cr’sh on ‘u. ‘Nd ‘im. Y’u kn’w. T’ll d’rk broo broody brooding.” At that point Stiles started to laugh quietly. He stopped suddenly and glared straight at Lydia before delivering his next sentence with the utmost seriousness “N’w h’s ‘n Alpha.

“Okay Stiles.”

“D’n’t w’nt me n’w. N’t p’rt ‘f da p’ck. H’m’n” Stiles gestured to himself and then emitted a huge yawn

“Lie back down Stiles. Sleep a little bit more”

“Y’h! Sl’ps g’d. N’ce sle’p. M’ms sle’ing n’w. Sh’s h’ppy. L’k ‘llyson” Lydia looked up sharply at that but Stiles was already nodding back off, mumbling more into his pillow. Half an hour later Scott was back and Lydia told him about Stiles waking up. She kept quiet about what he’d said though.

 

When Stiles next woke up he was a lot more lucid, almost fully awake.

“Hey Scott.” Scott and Lydia both snapped their heads around to look at Stiles whose eyes were cracked open ever so slightly.

“Stiles!” A warm smile spread over Scott’s face as his friend returned to some kind of consciousness.

“Heey. How long have I been out?”

“You woke up yesterday but not really. Do you remember?” Stiles shook his head slowly

“I just remember the school and-” then his face drained of the little colour it had. “Oh.” Lydia chose that moment to start talking.

“You’ve been off school for four days now so you’ve got homework.” Stiles pulled a face at this “Luckily for you, you also have excellent taste in friends.” She smirked as she watched Stiles realise what she meant.

“Oh my god Lydia thank you so much. I could not stand a single one of those stupid maths problems right now.” Scott was still at the back of the room whilst Lydia had moved forwards. He wanted to yell at Stiles, ask why he hadn’t told them about whatever creature had hurt him but he didn’t. Instead he joined Lydia and they spent the next twenty minutes talking about un-important things.

“Guys do you know when they’re taking me off the local anaesthetic?” Lydia frowned and turned to Scott

“They never gave you any.” Stiles, who had been fiddling with the blankets stilled at that

“Are you sure?”  Scott glanced at Lydia thinking what they had given Stiles. There had been a lot of drugs but they were painkillers. The general anaesthetic had only been given to him during his surgery.

“Why are you asking, Stiles?” Scott looked at his friend, worried. Stiles closed his eyes and put his head back on the pillow. The heart beat monitor starting dancing like crazy.

“Get a doctor Scott. I need one now.” Stiles’ voice was flat, expressionless. Scott rose slowly, confused. “Get the doctor!” Stiles yelled. Scott nodded and raced off. Then there was just Lydia. Stiles began to take heaving breaths, air not coming into his lungs enough. Lydia grabbed his hand, trying to calm him with almost no success.

“Stiles! What’s wrong?”

“My legs Lydia. I can’t- I can’t feel them.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles, in hospital, receives some disturbing news. Getting home makes nothing better.

After nearly a week Stiles was finally allowed to go home with strict orders to rest and a meal plan to stick to. When he left the hospital it was in a wheelchair. This was partly because of the injuries he had sustained, almost every inch of him was covered in plaster, but it was mostly because the feeling hadn’t come back into his legs. The doctors had said that it might be temporary but it wasn’t heartfelt.

Stiles couldn’t feel anything from the small of his back downwards. A spinal vertebrae had snapped in half and the doctors thought it might have severed the spinal cord at that point. If it had then he’d be stuck like this, stuck in the wheelchair for the rest of his life.

That thought had urged Stiles into action more than a few times. Despite his right arm being encased in plaster he still tried to move around. The Sheriff had taken his car keys, despite Stiles’ protests, and he wasn’t letting Stiles get them back. For most of the hospital stay Stiles had been alone, either because of the hospital or Stiles instead.

It was easier like that, easier to ignore strangers when they asked about what he’d done. They saw the tiny cuts across his body, the dip where his stomach should have been, they saw everything. Every time one of them asked something or tried to talk he clammed up, refusing to acknowledge their existence until they moved onto a different topic. It was childish but Stiles didn’t care. The doctors couldn’t help his body and Stiles wouldn’t let them help his mind.

When Stiles got home he sat on his bed, which had been moved from upstairs with the help of a teenage True Alpha, a high school student fox spirit and a very human Sheriff.  He could feel the darkness slowly creeping in. In the hospital he had warded it off but now it was coming back. One thing he’d never told any of them was that he could still see everything the Nogitsune saw when it had released his body. He had also seen through the eyes of the Oni while it plunged its sword into Allison. He often wondered if somewhere in the depths of his brain the Nogitsune was still there, waiting for the right time. He jumped as he heard the door opening behind him and turned to see his dad walk in.

“Mind if I join you?”

“No sure dad.” The sheriff nodded and took a seat on the edge of the bed looking highly uncomfortable.

“Stiles, we need to talk.”

“Sure dad, what’s up?”

“Stiles, I need to know why you did it. We need to fix it somehow. We need to know what’d going on.”

“Dad-” Stiles started. He did _not_ want to talk about this. He’d failed. That was all it was. He couldn’t even kill himself right. That just about summed him up really. His life had failed and now his death had failed. But his father, for some reason, seemed to be determined.

“Doctor Deaton is very interested in helping you. I can’t say I trust the man entirely but-”

“Helping me? He’s a vet!” Stiles shook his head. If his dad was forcing him to go to a counsellor he thought the man would at least send him to a proper one, not a creepy werewolf druid guy who could probably have saved several lives but decided not to.

“I know but Scott says he knows everything there is to know about this sort of stuff.” The Sheriff broke off and sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do here Stiles. I love you but I don’t understand any of this. I’m gonna help you though.”

“Understand it?” Stiles half asked in confusion. His father wasn’t making sense.

“I know that you’re trying real hard right now, fighting whatever this thing is but we need you to talk about it.” The man pulled a list out of his pocket and frowned. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” He muttered to himself. “Did you see the creature?”

“The creature?” Stiles asked, completely bewildered. “What-”

“The- the whatever it was that made you jump Stiles. Come on, the longer it takes us to figure it out the longer you’re in danger.”

“You want the- the creature that made me kill myself?” Stiles stated in wonder. How could his father be that dense? He was smart, not as smart as Stiles (but that didn’t really say anything). But what should he do? He could lie to his dad and get a second chance or he could tell the truth.

“Come on Stiles.” His father prompted gently. “We can get you better son.”

Lie it was.

“I didn’t see it. Not really. I was just sat in school one day and it felt like something hit me in the back.”

“And pushed you off?” His father asked, hand clenching into a fist. Stiles shook his head.

“No. I was still on the ground. But I just felt it hit me and then I-” Stiles sighed and his father paused, letting his son take a breath. He’d been through enough. Stiles was frantically running through the creatures he knew, wondering if he could pin this on any of them. “This was about two months before it happened actually.” Stiles felt his stomach drop at the pain on his father’s face.

“It- it controlled you for two months?” He croaked out. Stiles nodded quickly and turned away so he wouldn’t have to see his father’s guilt.

“I couldn’t do what I wanted to anymore. I- I couldn’t eat.” Stiles slipped that one in without prompting. He knew that no matter what they would have spotted his body. He wasn’t delusional, he knew he’d lost weight. He also thought that he had miles to go before he was actually a healthy weight. That, actually, was right but the exact opposite of what he thought.

“We noticed that, yeah.” His father murmured. “I am so sorry Stiles. I should have- I should have seen!”

“It’s okay dad.” Stiles mumbled. This was it, he was going to hell. His dad had tears in his eyes and Stiles couldn’t help the guilt and nor did he try. This was his fault, he was drawing it out. His father shouldn’t be crying right now, he should be happy. He should be happy knowing that Stiles was back with his mother. But here they were.

“I wanna sleep dad. Can we- can we talk later?”

“Sure kid.” His dad said quietly, standing. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thanks dad.” Stiles managed to get out from his choked up throat.

“No problem. Uh, Scott and Melissa are coming over in a few hours. I’ll wake you up for them.” Stiles nodded dumbly and just collapsed backwards. He didn’t want to see either of them. They would look at him with that pitying gaze he deserved none of. He didn’t deserve pity, he deserved scorn and loathing. He just didn’t understand why his friends wouldn’t give it to him.

 

Dinner was tense. Whenever Stiles stopped eating the table would stare at him in turns, attempting to be subtle. When Stiles was actually eating he felt sick. He wasn’t used to eating more than a piece of fruit in the evening, let alone a full meal. By the end he felt sick and over half his plate was untouched.

“Are you done Stiles?” Scott, bless the kid, was trying to be subtle but had just about the same amount of tact as the proverbial bull in the china shop. Stiles paused at that, why would there be a bull in a china shop? Where there many farms with china shops nearby? Actually, were there china shops? Anyone who wanted china just ordered it from EBay or-

“Stiles?” Stiles jumped as his dad laid a hand on his arm. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Stiles mumbled. He then turned to Scott and tried to smile. “I think that’s enough for now.” Scott looked at the plate worriedly, seeing how much he had left. He then stared back up at Stiles, engaging the puppy eyes.

Damn those puppy eyes, Stiles thought.

“You haven’t eaten much-”

“Geez Scott, I wonder why that is! Could it be because I’ve been living off hospital food? Maybe it’s because I’ve had this thing in my brain stopping me from eating!” Stiles winced internally as he said that. It was a lie. He didn’t have some kind of supernatural creature, just his own broken brain. But that didn’t stop him barrelling on. “Or maybe, Scott, just maybe I AM NOT _HUNGRY_!”

Scott recoiled as if he’d been stung and the table lapsed into silence. After a few minutes Stiles muttered his thanks and wheeled away from the table. When he was back in his room he made the careful transition from the chair to the bed and closed his eyes. He shouldn’t have said that but it came out and now, now Scott would be out there finally realising how much of a bad friend Stiles was.

No one followed Stiles and shortly afterwards Scott and Melissa left, promising to return later in the week. However every time Scott called Stiles he was inexplicably busy. He was out shopping, he was in the shower (which was a whole new process in a wheelchair), he was with relatives, the list was endless. The Sheriff always delivered the messages in the same flat tone of voice, letting Scott know that the excuses were just that, excuses. Scott didn’t know what to do, between school, work and trying to find Derek there was almost no time left. It wasn’t until Monday that Scott got to talk to Stiles, when Stiles arrived back to school a week earlier than planned.

 

 

When Scott woke up on Monday he looked at the clock and rolled back over. And so, when he eventually woke up, he was already late. He glanced at the clock and slowly the numbers formed some meaning. When they did he swore and leapt up. He threw on the first set of clothes he could find, some jeans that were too big and a band t-shirt from a band he’d never liked. He ran downstairs and leapt onto his motorbike, somehow arriving only a few minutes after school had started. He rushed down the empty halls until he finally got to Chemistry and threw himself into the nearest seat

“Good of you to join us Mr McCall. Can I ask why it took so long?” The teacher raised an eyebrow imperiously.

“Sorry sir, my clock was at the wrong time.”

“Hmm, don’t make a habit of it McCall.” with that he moved back to teaching about ionic equations or something and Scott relaxed. He glanced at the person sat next to him, Greenburg, who else would it be? Scott sighed and slouched deeper into his seat ready for yet another tedious class. Throughout most of the class Scott was zoned out, trying to figure out how to talk to Stiles.

The teenager was still refusing to answer any of Scott’s calls or let him into the house. Scott knew he’d be coming back to school but took little solace in that. Stiles wasn’t exactly likely to be friendly when he got back. Scott just didn’t understand it. He was trying to help his friend, was trying to make sure whatever creature hurt him couldn’t hurt him again. But Stiles was blocking him at every point. It was almost as if-

He was shaken out of his reverie when Greenburg elbowed him sharply.

“Scott,” he nodded over to the seat across the other side of the classroom where Lydia sat. She had been desperately trying to get his attention for the best part of half an hour.

“What?” He mouthed across the classroom. She rolled her eyes and grabbed her phone from her bag, typing expertly under the desk without so much as a glance at the screen. Scott turned his head slightly to pick up the sound of keys. It had been something Stiles had said a few months before. Every keypad had a different amount of wear and so, technically Scott should be able to hear a text message. It hadn’t worked but Scott still tried. He glanced quickly downwards as his phone buzzed.

_Where have you been over the weekend? Did Stiles get a chance to tell you?_

Scott looked up, confused before typing back, a lot slower

_What was he meant to tell me?_

Lydia rolled her eyes slightly before typing something else out. Just as Scott glanced down he felt a presence behind him.

“Scott McCall, I can allow for some tardiness. I can maybe even stretch to allowing a student to stay in my class when they are not paying attention. However texting in a lesson, that I cannot allow. Give me the phone and go down to the principal’s office.”

“But-”

“Now, Scott!” Scott sighed and gave the teacher his phone with a promise he could get it back at the end of school. He then grabbed his bag and walked out of the classroom. It was only at lunch that he finally got to catch up with Lydia.

“Lydia what were you trying to tell me?” but Lydia didn’t get a chance to answer as another, very familiar, head appeared at their table. The normally pink face was almost grey and he was sat in a wheelchair. Plaster surrounded his right arm which he rested gingerly on his legs, covered in similar plaster. The t-shirt he was wearing did nothing to disguise the ribs poking out and nothing could hide the cheekbones which stood out against the rest of the lifeless skin.

“Hey guys.” Stiles said, attempting to smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School doesn't work out exactly how Stiles was hoping.

Stiles had eaten. That was all he could think. He remembered the taste, how it tasted like cardboard and grease as it slithered down his throat. He’d wanted to leave immediately, to go and force his fingers down his throat but his father was there too quickly.

All through the night all Stiles could think of what that food. When his father put a bowl of cereal in front of him for breakfast he nearly broke down in tears. He felt bloated and full, as if he was about to explode from how much was inside him. He didn’t understand when his dad told him to eat up. Didn’t he see?

The feeling hadn’t dissipated over the morning and he still felt the weight of the food pulling him to the ground, dragging him down.

The thoughts didn’t leave his head and eventually he gave up, grabbing his school bag and hoping against hope people wouldn’t stare.

He wasn’t sure if he could cope with that right now.

“Stiles, what are you doing here?” Scott asked, keeping his voice obviously neutral. It was also obvious to everybody there that he was worried. Stiles ignored that.

“I wanted to see how fun school would be now that nothing freaky’s going down. Apparently it’s really really boring.”

Lydia didn’t roll her eyes at his tone, instead just frowning. “But you’re not meant to be back yet Stiles.”

“I wanted a change of scenery. It’s a bit difficult when you can’t walk.” Stiles half snapped. He didn’t want this to happen, didn’t want to draw attention to himself but apparently the others were going to force that. It was almost ironic, Stiles thought, all that time when he wanted them to see him again and there was nothing. Now he wanted them to vanish and they wouldn’t leave him alone.

Scott glanced down and then nodded as Lydia murmured an apology.

The group then soon fell into an easy chatter, apart from Malia who, the moment Stiles had arrived, gripped her tray forcibly. Scott glanced over at her, confused.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly. Malia just grunted in response and grabbed her tray, stalking across the room before all but throwing it down.

“Man, she’s cheerful isn’t she?” Stiles said quietly, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. Scott frowned, ready to follow Malia but didn’t. Stiles got through the meal forcing half of the food down. Some of it ended up on the floor, some of it ended up in his pockets and the rest was left on his plate. He ignored Scott’s pointed look and dumped the rest of the food in the bin. He didn’t need Scott pretending to feel sorry for him.

It was almost a relief when the bell went, signalling the next class. It was English, luckily without Scott or any of the others. Stiles allowed himself to zone out for most of it which was both a blessing and a curse. He could ignore the stares of the people in the room but he couldn’t stop feeling his stomach.

It was too full, it was too heavy. As the lesson continued Stiles felt progressively more sick until he was sure he was about to throw up.

“Miss, can I go to the loo please?”

“Couldn’t you have gone during lunch?” She asked, without even looking up from the pile of papers she was marking. A hush fell over the classroom before Stiles answered. All of the pupils turned to stare at him or the teacher.

“I was having difficulty getting anywhere to be honest.” Stiles’ tone was cold. He knew the teacher didn’t deserve it but he didn’t really care. All he could think of what that he needed to get the food out. The teacher looked up at his words and suddenly realised who she was talking to. Immediately she grabbed a hall pass and gave it to him, apologising quietly.

He didn’t even deign to answer her apology, just awkwardly manoeuvring between the desks to leave the room. As he did he tried to ignore the stares boring a hole into the back of his head.

When Stiles got to the bathroom (thank goodness there was a disabled stall before all this happened) he put two fingers down his throat as quietly as he could. It wouldn’t do him any good for someone to hear him. He felt tears spring to his eyes and in the next moment the food from lunch emptied into the bowl.

Stiles flushed it down, refusing to look at it. He took a large gulp of water and that followed the vomit into the bowl. He didn’t feel better. He felt dirty, empty and so revolted at himself. He wasn’t fasterstrongerbetter. He was Stiles. He was nothing.

Feeling dejected he wheeled himself back into the classroom and picked up the book they were studying. He was so pleased when the bell finally rang throughout the school and he shoved his books into his bag. The teacher called him over.

“Stiles, about earlier, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any offence”

“None taken seriously it’s all fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep!”

“Go off to your next lesson and tell the teacher that I kept you if they make a fuss.” Stiles nodded absentmindedly as he left.

His next class was Economics with Coach, he doubted Coach had even noticed Stiles was gone. However when he did finally get to Economics (why oh why was it so far away?) Coach did notice. He was in the middle of a speech about how important it was to get health insurance when Stiles wheeled in. Coach paused in the middle of the speech which was kind of a first. Stiles could feel, yet again, everyone’s eyes turn to him.

“Stilinski, good to have you back”

“Good to be back Coach.” if Coach noticed the sarcasm dripping from every word he didn’t say anything, instead gestured to a desk next to Scott which was already devoid of a chair.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Coach continued, as if nothing had happened. Scott glared at Stiles as he sat down. Stiles was surprised, Scott was almost wolfed out in the classroom. His eyes were flashing red and the desk beneath him was developing some serious gouges

“What’s the problem dude?”

“What’s the problem?!” And there were the fangs. “I told you to tell me if you did it again!”

“McCall! Shut up!” In a moment Scott was back to human, the fangs had receded and his eyes were no longer blood red.

“Yes Coach.” Scott growled out. Stiles then sat through the entire class with Scott staring daggers into his back. Every time Scott was about to speak Stiles’ hand would shoot up giving the teacher no choice but to pick him (there wasn’t anyone else giving answers). By the end of the lesson Coach was telling him to put his hand down, to let someone else have a go.

“Alright, everyone on the lacrosse team I want you outside ready to go in five minutes. We don’t have time to waste this season!” Coach yelled over the sound of the final bell. “Stiles, could I have a word?” Stiles groaned under his breath but wheeled to the front of the classroom.

“Yeah coach?”

“Look Stiles, is there any chance of you getting out of that wheelchair?”

“Very little.” Stiles said quietly. There was a chance, there was always a chance. It just wasn’t a good one. At his answer Coach winced slightly.

“Dammit, you were a good player”

“What?” Stiles asked in amazement. The man barely knew his name.

“Well, maybe not skill wise but you had guts. You were committed and ready to go every session. More so then Scott ever was and he’s the captain!”

“Well sorry sir, unless the doctors find a way of knitting a spinal cord back together I’ve got nothing.” Stiles said glibly. Again, it wasn’t the entire truth but it was enough.

“Pity.” With that Coach strode from the room, leaving Stiles in his wake.

Stiles sighed and left the room with his bag slung over his shoulder, got into Lydia’s car, Scott in the shotgun seat, in silence and as she drove he remained silent. When he walked through the door it was to find his father sat at the table waiting for him, Kira and Scott next to him. Lydia took a seat beside them.

“Is this an intervention? Is that actually what’s happening right now?” Stiles asked in amazement.

“Stiles,”

“No dad, answer my question. Is this an intervention?”

“No. It’s not.” Scott’s voice was soft. “We know this is difficult Stiles. But- we need you to explain. We can stop this, whatever it is. But we need you to be honest with me.” Stiles scoffed at Scott’s answer. Of course Scott would believe Stiles’ dumb lie.

“I don’t think this is something you can stop.” Stiles didn’t want it to stop. It didn’t need to. (He might need to stop but not this, not the feeling of emptiness that had become almost second nature to him.)

“Stiles, we defeated an ancient fox-demon. I think we can cope with this.” Kira’s voice was soft but she was smiling slightly. Stiles scoffed at that.

“You forgot something about that.” He hissed. “You didn’t defeat it. It got into my head. You didn’t even notice!”

“That’s not fair Stiles!” Scott interjected, causing Stiles to focus on him instead.

“Not fair? Who cares?” Stiles knew he was getting angry, maybe too angry but they still didn’t see. He’d tried to kill himself. This wasn’t just some creature hiding in his wardrobe. This was his life. “You sacrificed me just to stop some crazy druid!”

“Stiles!” The Sheriff snapped. Stiles shook his head in anger at that.

“No dad! You don’t get to talk now either!”

“We’re trying to help you Stiles.” Lydia’s voice was quiet, already tear filled. Stiles felt a wave of disgust. He’d done that. He’d made Lydia cry.

“But you’re not.”

“We are not going to let this thing starve you!” Scott exclaimed. Next to him Kira frowned and ducked her head, not letting anyone else see what she was feeling. Stiles just scoffed.

“You let it happen last time.” this was delivered coldly, devoid of emotion. The sheriff recoiled immediately and fell silent.

“Stiles, please just calm down.” Lydia was rubbing her forehead while she said this.

“Fine.” Stiles wheeled over to the other side of the room and dumped his school bag.

“Stiles, we’re going to help you get through this.” Kira finally spoke, raising her head. Her eyes was devoid of tears as was her voice but there was something there that Stiles couldn’t quite place.

“How are you going to do that then?” Stiles asked, suddenly exhausted.

“First of by making a food plan.” The Sheriff sounded tired but he always did nowadays. If it wasn’t some supernatural creature attacking it was trying to take care of his teenage son who didn’t seem to have any kind of survival instinct.

“If you stick to it then we can make sure you get enough. It’s just temporary until we can fix all of this.” Scott’s tone was calming, as if he thought that those words could help Stiles.

“What if I don’t like the food?” Stiles asked perpetually.

“Then we’ll get you _new_ food Stiles!” There was a definitely false cheeriness injected into Lydia’s voice.

“And no more throwing up. If you do then talk to us.” This was growled as Scott’s eyes began to slowly change red and his claws extended. The Sheriff looked very worried about this new development that no-one had bothered to tell him.

“Hey Scott, it’s a new table.” Stiles chastised, staring at Scott’s hands. Scott look a deep breath and the claws slowly drew themselves back into his skin.

“So, is the intervention over?” Stiles asked hopefully.

“Nope!” Stiles rolled his eyes at Lydia’s response

“My mum can help us figure out what it is and she took a course in phycology a while ago and she agreed to have weekly meetings with you to help you a bit.” Kira said softly. Stiles glanced at her while she talked. She wasn’t smiling, instead she had a lost sort of look on her face as if she was terrified of what would come next.

“By a while ago do you mean a few months or a few decades?” Stiles hadn’t researched it that much (that was a lie, there was page after page bookmarked on his computer but he refused to admit it meant anything) but he was pretty sure that the ways of dealing with mental health problems had changed a lot.

“Um, she took it when I was thirteen.”

“Oh good, electroshock is probably out of the question then.” Stiles knew he was being an asshole but he didn’t care. Kira glanced down again and Stiles felt the urge to go upstairs and shred away the skin on his waist.

“Do I get a choice in all of this?”

“Nope!”

“Stiles, either you agree to this or I will personally hold you down and force feed you until you do agree to do it.” Scott didn’t break his gaze as he said this, staring directly at Stiles.

“Well when you put it like that how can a guy refuse?” Stiles’ mood was quickly darkening and with it came the sarcasm which pushed his friends away.

He turned around and wheeled away into his new room. He took a book off the shelf and tried to read it. Half an hour later he had read the first sentence a few hundred times and it hadn’t yet sunk in. Instead he was just planning what he was going to do next, he had to be more sensible. This time Scott and Lydia couldn’t find him before his heart had stopped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See you next time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off the idea that season four does not exist.  
> Also, the title and general idea may be familiar to you. This was originally posted on ff.net and then I kind of... uh... maybe half abandoned it? But with the promise I'd always come back to it. Now I'm keeping that promise. If you, by some miracle, did read it then you should know that this is not going to be identical. Same storyline (probably) but a slightly different take.  
> This isn't going to be happy story, it will deal with self harm, depression, suicide, eating disorders and for a while nothing will be happy. Sorry. But I hope you stick around for the ride.  
> See you next time.


End file.
